Query any poem you want.

A chilled wind struck the air with the sharpness of a needle,

and far too late for birds to sing,

the only sound left resides in the cathedral.

Fog snaked between the trees in the meadow, blanketing the grass with a soft layer of dew,

and though not many creatures accompanied the evening mist,

in the desolate church yard, there sat a few

A mother and her child no older than six, sharing stories and laughter on a nearby park bench,

a blanket wrapped gently around the boy keeping his hands warm inside, comfortable, and clenched.

Though the air remained fridged, in light of the setting sun,

The family stayed warm,

either the heat of the blanket or love a mother and her son.

Oh, how powerful, yet fragil the love we keep can be,

Possibly the thing that binds life together, or lays it gently to sleep.

And how destructive of a force love can be if not properly contained,

the very way we greive the loss of company... cursed never to stay.

Yet, there sat the mother...

Her gaze soflty beading up and down the boys delicate hair in the wind,

knowing that truly, no force could separate her love in the end.

I love you she gently whispered, Almost as if her words were carried with the wind.

However, as much joy as the motherly company brought the boy, sadly everything must come to an conclusion, and ever so sadly, the boy turned up to his mother with a fading grin.

"Why cant you stay" the boy asked.

""Why would you assume i ever left".

And with the return of the boys smile, and new comfort in hand,

a church bell rang out,

knowing the hour was closing, and sun setting upon the land.

A voice cried out from the cathedral in the distance, familiar with the boys name,

The young child knew that it was time to return from which he came.

The mother with a brush of hair, and a kiss on the forhead, wrapped the blanket tightly around her kin,

Kneeling down for one last hug before her sweet child went in.

"Its okay" the mother spoke softly with a tear in her eye, "ill be right behind you"

And with cheeks red like a cherry, held up with the smile of a yound child.

The boy turned, putting one step after his first, walking up a path leading all the way back to the church.

Yet although two souls walked in tow, only one pair of footprints was left in the mid November snow.

And as they walked through the ceiling of Douglas Firs, something caught the boys attention,

however only for a second,

A small marble plaque underneath a pine tree beckoned.

Soon with the slight encouragement of his mother, the boy continued lost in reverie, The Marble stone engraved "In loving memory"

Further down the path they wandered, till eventually at the doors of the church, the young boy turned to his mother, and stated "momma, I dont want you to be cold tonight"

Handing her the blanket.

Tears now unable to be contained with in the mother's eyes,

hugged her child with the love that could bring dead back to life

Although gone for the time being... in this moment... love is guaranteeing,

and a Blankets warmth, is never fleeting.